Poured Out
Poured out I stand,
in form & land,
in an unfocused moment;
a mutability
all the way from the lectern
in Tuna Church School, Class III,
to the diverging paths
of Voyager I & II;
from the burning witch’s scream
in the furnace
to Shadrach, Meshach & Abednego
in the boy soprano of Gesang der Jünglinge
Poured out I stand in the light,
a shadow of a thought
of shirt & trousers,
a cup of words,
a white day in fog,
a hexagram behind the eyes,
a halo that blinds
and a cascading I Ching bundle
in the thin air;
Shabtal Zizel ben Avraham’s tarot cards
in Minneapolis, 1975,
and a Scarlet Rivera picked up
in Greenwich Village with her violin
Poured out I stand
in vague materiality and rustling time;
an odd thought of something elusive
somewhere between here & now,
where the light filters through
an old barn
with hantavirus dust & pigeon droppings.
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Written on 2025-11-21 at 11:14
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